Amid the Gospel Throng
by Kira Gage
Summary: Main: Muriel, an new angel assigned to keep and eye on Sam, Dean, and Castiel, grows more and more sympathetic to their cause. Eventually she discovers a way to help. Ch. 2 - Bobby is missing, and Cas is at a loss.
1. Resolutions

Title: Amid the Gospel Throng : Chapter 1 - Resolutions

Author: Kira Gage

Disclaimer: All characters (except one) and some concepts belong to Erik Kripke and his production company, no profit is to be made here. If you sue me, I may lose but you won't get anything anyway. I have nothing to give, except my mind (if you want that...take it. I'm not using it anymore.) *Ch. 1 note - There's a line somewhat plagiarized from Cold Mountain. I heard it and it stuck in my head.

Genre: angst, action, romance (eventually)

Pairing/Characters: OC, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, OC/Castiel, reference to Jo & Ellen

Description: Post-Abandon All Hope; A woman goes to Carthage to retrieve a seemingly unimportant item left behind. (Part 1 of ??...sorry, I know I hate those things.)

Rating: PG-13/R (just to be safe)

Spoilers: Through Abandon All Hope

Word Count: 1189

Author's note: This has been banging around in my head ever since a crack-headed dream I had shortly after Abandon. This is only my second fic, and my first Supernatural fic, so feedback is appreciated. If you're really curious, I got the title from a line from one of William Luce's plays, the title of which can give you a BIG hint about where this whole thing is going.

* * *

The once bustling town of Carthage was now a ghost's wasteland. Not a living soul could be found anywhere near; the place had been violated by all the life unwillingly lost there. The crunch and slither of glass underfoot were the only sounds as Muriel slowly walked down the desolate street that had once been Garrison Avenue. Her heart clenched as her firm brown eyes caught sight of a torn and bloody sneaker that wouldn't have fit an adult.

_Keep moving_, she told herself.

She stopped briefly and bent over to pick up a spent shotgun shell and, bringing it to her lips, tasted the sharp traces of gunpowder and rock salt. Several more shells lay nearby on the ground along with a congealed puddle of blood, and a bloody trail led from the pool to the blasted shell of a hardware store.

Muriel paused only briefly before stepping inside to observe the carnage. The fire had burned away most traces of the two bodies that had breathed their last in this space; all that was left was a melted pendant that could have once been a cross or talisman and the heat-warped blade of an small, old hunting knife. Again sadness grabbed at Muriel's heart, and again she stifled the emotion.

_Remember this. Keep it for later. Right now, you have a job to do. Get it done, get out, and mourn these people when you have the time to do it properly._

Kneeling, she gathered what she could of the twisted and charred metal pieces and placed them carefully in her pocket so that she could attempt to repair them later. The artifacts of the recently dead and the power they contained held a special fascination for her, as well as being something she could either pass on to the living or bury to show respect for those who had owned them.

Straightening, she strode quickly from the store, longing to escape the oppressive feeling of doom and the sickly sour smell of death, but there was no respite from it in this place. As she crossed the threshold, the singed and reeking carcass of a Hellhound lay slumped half off the sidewalk. She gave it a sharp kick as she passed, cursing both the hound and the demon who had commanded it.

As she continued from the center of town and towards the great battlefield that now housed an even greater crater and not much else, she kept a careful eye on the many Reapers still gathered on the streets and sidewalks. So many deaths in so little a time and limited a space meant that the Reapers had been busy for several days, tracking down those souls that were not attempting to cling to this world but merely wandered as a result of not having a guide to the afterlife at the moment of their death. Muriel had not seen any of these spirits, but so many lingering Reapers meant that they were there.

When she reached the battlefield, there were so many bodies scattered across it that she had a difficult time reaching the pit that had been dug in the center. Dozens of pairs of empty eyes stared at the bright blue sky. If not for the utter stillness of the bodies, Muriel thought it could have reminded her of a group of people cloud gazing, trying to find shapes in the puffy mist high above. Reaching the center of the pit she was starkly reminded of the truth. The dozens of small hands, covered in blood and reaching up from the earth and begging for salvation spoke more violation than even the empty town.

This time Muriel couldn't stop the sob that escaped her throat as she viewed the human portion of the sacrifice Lucifer had used to bring forth the second Horseman.

_This world won't last long,_ she thought. _God won't let it._

Falling tears made it impossible for her to see clearly, and her shaking legs would support her no longer. She sank to the ground, and gave in to the sorrow that coursed through her, and the guilt. She gave herself a few minutes to weep for the innocents before her.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have been here, I should have __**done something.**_

Her face in her hands, Muriel eventually regained control of her emotions and gathered herself. As she rose to her feet, the regret and grieving that had washed through her was replaced with anger and vengeful fury.

_No more. I cannot continue to ignore what is happening to the world. I won't._

Wiping away her tears, she steeled herself to what had to be done and gingerly stepped down into the pit. The hands were so close together she couldn't avoid brushing against them, and the tiny fingers catching on her pant legs ripped at her heart all the more. Kneeling at the center of the pit, she carefully began digging into the dirt, searching for the tiny piece of metal that had been her entire purpose in coming to Carthage. After several minutes, her fingers brushed something cold, hard, and _evil. _She closed her fingers around it, feeling a tingle like she had just plunged her hand into icy water. Soon though, the tingle turned into a burn as the edges of the ring she now gripped began to sear into her palm. She grit her teeth against the pain and yanked her hand from the earth, still clinging to what now felt like a live coal. The zipper on her pack caught and she cursed herself for not thinking about getting the box ready before she went after the ring. Fumbling the small wooden container from her pack, she scooped up some of the blood-stained dirt then flung the ring into it. Before she closed the box, she packed more dirt on top of the ring; if she didn't insulate it, it would probably burn through the box and catch her pack on fire.

Her task completed, Muriel retraced her steps out of the pit and off the battlefield. The Reapers she had seen in the town were waiting at the edge of the woods, waiting for the ring they surely could sense as easily as the souls they hunted. "Over my dead body," she murmured, then chuckled at her own stupidity. Yes, if they got the ring they _would_ be getting it over her dead body; they were Reapers after all, and she had just confiscated Death's un-necessary symbol of power.

Unlike the other Horsemen who depended on the rings for their supernatural abilities and protection, Death was a creature who had been around since the beginning. It needed no frills to accomplish it's job. Fortunately for humanity, it had been assigned the ring and the accompanying limitations; destruction of the ring meant a re-banishment of Death to the underworld.

Also fortunately, she had a means of escape that didn't include walking or fighting through the gathering crowd of Death's henchmen. With one final glance around to memorialize to the fallen, Muriel sighed and winked out of existence.


	2. We Could Let This Happen

Title: Amid the Gospel Throng : Chapter 2 – We Could Let This Happen

Author: Kira Gage

Disclaimer: All characters (except one) and some concepts belong to Erik Kripke and his production company, no profit is to be made here.

Genre: angst, action, romance (eventually)

Pairing/Characters: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, OFC, Castiel/OFC, reference to Jo & Ellen

Description: Post-Abandon All Hope; Bobby goes missing, and Castiel can't figure out who's to blame. (Part 2 of ??...sorry, I know I hate those things.)

Rating: PG-13/R (just to be safe)

Spoilers: Through Abandon All Hope

Word Count: 1796

Author's note: Again, this is only my 2nd fic, so let me know how I'm doing? Feedback keeps me writing.

* * *

Fulfilling a long-held Winchester tradition, Dean sat behind the wheel of the Impala as he cruised down a two-lane highway arguing with Sam about their next hunt.

"I'm telling you, Sam, this missing college girls thing is something we have to look into! They were all from the same sorority, and all that was found of them was their _scalps_?!? Tell me that doesn't have "evil-doing" written all over it!"

Rolling his eyes, Sam replies, "Yeah, Dean it's evil, and it's probably some sort of angry spirit, but we have bigger things to worry about. In case you forgot, our master plan of _killing the devil_ didn't work out so well."

"I know that, Sam!" The leather of the steering wheel creaked under the pressure of Dean's tight-knuckled grip. "But what else are we going to do? Sit around with our thumbs up our butts waiting for another bright idea that'll get someone killed? Or better yet, let's just wait until we get an excuse to go to Michigan, how about that?"

Sam went silent and even though Dean couldn't see the look on Sam's face, he could imagine pretty well the half pissed, half brooding expression his brother wore. For several minutes the only sound was the low hum of tires on the road and the muffled twang of the radio pumping out some crappy country station that was the only reception they got out in the middle of BFE. Finally, Dean sighed and glanced at Sam. "Look, I'm...I'm sorry, okay? It's just that I hate-" He broke off as Sam's phone rang, the shrilly tone cutting through his apology. Sam drew a deep breath before he answered.

"Hello? Hey Bobby, what's...wait a second, what? Bobby, slow down, I can't understand-"

Dean's eyes widened in alarm. "Sam? What is it? What's going on?"

Sam shushed his brother impatiently. "I don't...be quiet! Bobby, who's there? What's wr-" He abruptly stopped talking and lowered the phone to stare at the display. Turning to look at Dean he said, "It cut out."

Turning back to the road, Dean resumed the death grip on the wheel he'd only recently relaxed. He mentally noted where they were and quickly calculated the quickest route to Bobby's, and without really thinking about it pressed the accelerator to the floor. Sam was dialing Bobby back when Dean's suddenly went off. He fished it out of his pocket and quickly flipped it open when he recognized the number as the pre-paid phone they'd bought for Castiel.

"Cas?"

"_Dean, I-_"

"Cas, something's wrong at Bobby's, you've gotta-"

"_I'm at Bobby's, Dean._"

"Well, what the hell's going on?"

"_I don't know."_

"What do you mean, you don't know!"

"_Bobby's not here, Dean. There are signs of a struggle and his wheelchair is here, but there's no sign of Bobby."_

"Dammit!" Dean looked over at Sam whose worried face showed impatience and anxiety. "Cas says Bobby's gone."

"The line is dead." Sam said. "Does Cas know where he went?"

"No," Dean explained, "and it looks like there was a fight." Addressing the angel again, he said, "Cas, he called Sam less than a minute ago. What the hell could have taken him that quick?"

Cas hesitated before answering. _"Only a very powerful demon, or..."_

"Or what, Cas?"

"_An angel. There's blood smeared on his desk, and it looks like it could have been intended as an Enochian sigil."_

"Dammit! Can you use your angel mojo to, I don't know, _sense_ who took him or where they went?"

"_I cannot trace Bobby, Dean. His presence is hidden from me just as yours is. The other...that is what worries me, Dean. I can usually feel the presence of the other angels, but I don't sense __**anything**__."_ He paused again before continuing, _"There's only one whom I never sensed until they allowed it. Lucifer."_

It felt like Dean's heart stopped in his chest as Castiel's confession clicked into his brain. "Lucifer? Why would he want Bobby?"

"_Think about it, Dean. Bobby is the closest thing you and your brother have to family, and your only family after the death of Ellen and Jo Harvelle in Carthage."_

Sliding his eyes closed, Dean sighed as it suddenly made sense. Of course, if Lucifer wanted a bargaining chip, some sort of leverage to convince Sam to agree to be his meat suit, targeting his family was the best bet. And since Dean was always with Sam or Cas, snatching a man in a wheelchair who lived alone was far easier. It was the last thing they expected, merely because it rarely happened that their enemies had targeted Bobby as their weak spot.

Beside him, Sam stirred in agitation. "Lucifer has Bobby?" he asked.

"We don't know that," Dean angrily replied, but after a few beats he was forced to admit the truth. "Maybe."

Jaw clenched tight, Sam stared straight ahead, mind scrambling for some way, any way, to find Bobby. The thought of losing Bobby so closely after Jo and Ellen made him feel sick, angry. Sick, angry, and scared. _Which_, he told himself, _is exactly what whoever took Bobby wants. They want me to be afraid and acting without thinking about it._

Dean was still talking to Cas, questioning him about the mess at Bobby's place, if Bobby had left any clues about who or what had taken him.

"_Dean, I told you, other than the mess and the smeared blood that __could__ be an Enochian sigil, there's no signs of what happened."_

Cas sounded just as agitated as Dean felt, and equally as frustrated at a lack of information to go on. If there was just something they could use as a starting point, some little thing that would put them on the right track. Hell, it wasn't like they were asking for a neon sign, just a little goddamn clue!

"Well, keep looking! We're on our way there, but call me if you find anything."

"_I will, Dean," _Cas replied. Dean could hear him sigh, then clear his throat before continuing. _"And don't worry. If Lucifer took Bobby, the chances that he'll kill him before he tries contacting Sam are very slim."_

"Not helping, Cas!" Dean snapped the phone shut and threw it on the dashboard. He knew Cas was trying to reassure him, and what the man had said made sense, but it failed to ease the queasy feeling in Dean's stomach. Quickly he relayed everything the angel had told him to Sam. After a few clipped questions and even terser answers the brothers stopped talking altogether, each lost in his own thoughts and fears as they sped through the night towards Sioux Falls.

* * *

Muriel arrived silently outside the broken down factory on the north side of Cody, Wyoming. It had been very difficult to follow the angel that had taken Bobby from his home, but that didn't really matter any more. All that mattered was finding out as much as she could about the rogue, prevent him from handing Bobby over to Lucifer's henchmen, and reporting back to Zachariah.

Her superior had been tight-lipped about this particular mission, but he had revealed that the formerly-fallen angel Anna had been coerced into telling her captors about Uriel's treachery, among other things. They had assumed that the rebellion had died with him, but suspicious activity and unexplainable defeats had convinced Zachariah that there was still a faction that supported Lucifer, and he feared that they could massively undermine his efforts. When Zachariah had been informed by Raphael that Chuck Shurley had foreseen the abduction of the Winchester's "uncle," he had made the decision to use the information to spring a trap on the traitor in their midst. The prophet's vision was therefore hidden from the Winchesters and kept on a need to know basis.

Although conclusions could be drawn concerning the motive of Bobby's abductors, it would be decidedly more helpful to have more information. Muriel studied the building carefully, looking for any warning sigils or traps that would reveal her presence to the angel currently holding Bobby inside. Seeing none, she ventured on foot to the rear entrance and carefully eased it open just far enough for her to squeeze through without scraping up against the door or its frame. She didn't dare port into the building for fear of the angel or any accomplices sensing the change in pressure or the use of angelic power. So far her unique skill-set had kept her from detection, and she meant to keep it that way.

By tiptoeing in a awkward crouch behind an assembly line, she managed to sneak three quarters of the way across the massive room that had been the shoe factory's production floor without being exposed. On the far side of the room she could see Bobby Singer tied to a battered black office chair with frayed ropes that looked to have been pulled from somewhere in the building. His arms were slack against their bounds even though his wrists were restrained to the arms of the chair at an awkward angle and his head lolled to the side, chin to chest.

From her hiding place behind a large machine, Muriel focused her eyes carefully, bringing angelic sight to bear on the seemingly unconscious man, inspecting him for lagre wounds. He was free from injury aside from the minor gash on his left arm, which she ascertained had been self-inflicted in his attempt to cast the sigil on his desk. Briefly, Muriel considered her options; either the angel had rendered the man unconscious with mental force and left him here for their demon counterpart to retrieve, or Bobby was faking so that he could gather information or somehow defend himself when the demon came for him.

_One way or another, I'm not leaving him here,_ she thought to herself. _Zachariah gave me no orders regarding Bobby himself._

Muriel cautiously glanced around herself once more to ensure that no one else occupied the factory floor, then rose from her crouched position and began weaving a path through the ruined machinery. She had just emerged onto a clear area of the floor when the slight rush of displaced air tapped into her back.

She closed her eyes and cursed herself ten kinds of a fool for failing to anticipate a suspicious angel who would use Bobby as bait. Tensing herself for a fight, she turned to face the traitorous angel but was stopped dead in her tracks by surprise.

"Anna?"


End file.
